


Black Honesty

by NotRedGlasses



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cock Warming, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Force-Feeding, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season/Series 06, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-18 23:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRedGlasses/pseuds/NotRedGlasses
Summary: The clone merely frowns as he pulls his hand away.  It's the first time Keith felt justified in wanting to punch the face of his best friend.“You've made it clear that I'm just your pet here. What else do you want from me?”“Pet? No, Keith. I said that you're mine. And I take care of what's mine.”---Kuron brings Keith back as his prisoner after their battle in the cloning facility. Keith learns the consequences of calling a bluff when there is none.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be adding more tags later  
> Will be getting more fucked up as I go  
> The porn will be the plot

Keith wakes up to darkness. He must’ve been out for at least a couple vargas. His hands are restrained behind his back, clasped together with cutting, metallic handcuffs. He’s blindfolded tightly, so there was no way of knowing what his surroundings looked like. He was likely in a cell, maybe on one of Haggar’s ships. The last thing he remembered was a burning blade, pressing into the side of his right cheek. _Shiro._

Keith snaps to full consciousness. No, the last thing he remembers was confessing to Shiro. _You’re my brother, I love you._ He had watched as shock flickered across the face of the man wearing his best friend’s skin. The hand-turned-blade he held close to Keith’s neck, ready to cut Keith down, was suddenly drawn away. Before Keith could register anything, relief, shock, a non-weaponized hand came down and chopped his neck, knocking him out cold.

Maybe Keith could wrestle the blindfold away from his head, so he can at least see where the hell he was. Unfortunately, his shoulder could barely brush at the cloth wrapped around his head; the way his arms were restrained behind his back gave him no leverage. Keith had hardly made any progress before he hears footsteps echoing down a hallway, coming towards where he’s held. It must be for him. A door slides open, likely that of his prison, and someone enters the room.

He prepares for a punch in the face or a kick in the stomach, common interactions between a guard and tied-up prisoners. What he doesn’t expect is for the intruder to crouch in front of him and stare, displacing the air in front of him. What, is staring at a half-Galra cum black paladin of Voltron that interesting? Before he attempts to headbutt whoever is invading his personal space, a pair of hands reaches behind him and unties the blindfold. The darkness falls away to reveal the face he most and least wanted to see at that moment. 

“You, you tried to kill me,” Keith states frankly, unable to interpret anything else from the blank, unrecognizable look he saw on the face he should know more about than any other. 

“I did,” Shiro, no, Shiro’s imposter, says, emotionlessly.

“Are you here to finish the job?”

“No.” Shiro says.

“Then why are you here?” Keith grits out. 

The clone stares silently before he reaches out towards Keith’s face, forcing a heavy flinch from Keith. The clone draws his hand back to his side, but not before a grin curls cruelly on his face, his eyes glinting pink.

“I have to take care of what’s mine, right?” Those words turn Keith’s blood to ice. It finally starts to sink in. Keith lost. He failed Shiro and is now tied up and at the mercy of the universe’s greatest enemy, the Galran Empire. He’s going to be the pet of this evil clone.

“W-what happened to the others?” Keith wanted to bite his tongue hard from how embarrassingly his voice trembled. It was one thing to fight Shiro, one on one, with blade in hand. It was even ground. He had made up his mind the moment he entered that wormhole on his own, separating from the other paladins. He was going to bring Shiro back or die trying. Now though? He had no idea how he was going to get out of this situation. The clone stared right at him, crouched easily but attentive like a lion waiting to strike. Not the face of a man who would make a careless mistake, nor the mind. No matter how their personalities or souls differed, this clone had the memory and intelligence of the real Shiro. Keith couldn’t stop from glancing over to look at the clone’s mutated, clawed hand. It no longer glowed with the wicked energy it had before when it was blasting the cloning facility to bits, but it was likely still capable of that and whatever else Keith didn’t want to think about at the moment.

“How like you to think of the others, Keith. So considerate, especially when it was about me, right?”

“No, not you,” Keith’s anger burned away the fear forming in his gut, turning him reckless. “Shiro. You’re not him.”

That earned him a chuckle, like Keith just told a bad joke instead of what he was actually doing, which was staring daggers into the man in front of him.

“I’m far more like Shiro than whoever you think you’ve been talking to for your whole life, Keith,” The clone says, bringing his face close to Keith’s, enough for Keith to be able to feel the heat of his breath. Keith’s expression only hardens. “You’ll see soon enough.” And with that, the clone abruptly stands and strides away, the prison door sliding shut behind him with finality.

Alright. Keith’s situation probably isn’t as horrible as he thinks it is. The clone doesn’t have plans to kill him, otherwise he would have done so already. As long as he ignores everything the man with his best friend’s face says, he’ll be set. Every word out of his mouth from the start has been a lie anyways. He needs to figure out a way to get out, snap the clone out from under Haggar’s control, find out where the real Shiro is, and get back to the others. A tall order, but not wholly impossible. Keith’s been through worse, alone. At least he has a familiar face to look at this time around, even if it is on the wrong side of the war. It gives Keith a visible goal to work toward, to figure out a way to put a familiar expression back of the face that had looked at him so cruelly earlier.

With the blindfold gone, Keith is able to assess his new place of residence he was reluctantly thrown into. Each of the prison walls were industrially smooth, gray, and unremarkable, save for the one with the door and the opposing wall where his handcuffs were chained to. His roaming eyes catch something shiny in the center of the cell’s ceiling. A camera, which was likely the reason why the clone had known when Keith had regained consciousness. In a fit of pettiness and no other method of rebellion, Keith flipped the bird at the camera. If the clone was watching, Keith was going to make sure that he shows how much he hates every second of it.

Keith had been stripped of his paladin armor and weapons, left with only his black undersuit. He closes his eyes and focuses. Nothing happens. Well, it was worth a shot. The clone likely planned ahead and stored his bayard somewhere he couldn’t summon it from. Or his cuffs hindered his ability to summon his weapon. Keith didn’t have much way of turning around to take a look at what his hands were restrained by. The fucking clone was thorough in making sure he was helpless. His best bet was to wait for his next visitor. Even with just his feet unrestrained, he’ll have to take his chances. For now he will just have to rest and wait for his opportunity. Keith was not looking forward to how numb his hands were likely to get with them chained up behind him. He closes his eyes and waits.

Keith is awakened by the sound of his prison door sliding open. He didn’t expect to actually fall asleep, but clearly he was much more tired than he thought he was. He blinked sleep away from his eyes as he looked to up to his unwelcome yet unsurprising guest. 

“Sleep well?”

“Fuck you.”

The clone smiles like Keith was just his pet dog who had an accident on the floor. He’s holding what Keith assumes is his dinner. Or whatever meal he’s supposed to be having at this time. There was no way of telling what point of the day they were at, seeing how they were on a spaceship and no one was willing to give information to a prisoner. Aside from the clone, but Keith doubts he’s going to trust anything that comes out of his mouth. The clone crouches in front of him, holding the bowl of alien gruel or whatever it is that Keith is going to have to eat. Suddenly they’re now at a standstill.

“So you going to release my hand so I can eat or what?” Keith wiggles his tied hands, allowing his chains to clank against each other. The clone merely lifts the spoon from the bowl and holds it to Keith’s face.

“Uh, no.”

“You’re going to eat.”

“You are not going to feed me,” Keith hisses. There was that team building exercise Keith is reminded of when he and the paladins had to feed each other space goo, and an older memory of when Shiro actually hand fed him when Keith had burned both his hands on a hoverbike engine. This is a whole other situation. He was not going to let this monster in his friend’s body anywhere near his mouth.

“I have ways of making you eat, Keith,” The clone states placidly. A full minute passes of Keith turned away from the spoon held to his lips, mouth tightly closed, as the clone stares him down. Disturbing. Awkward. Keith would rather starve than eat anything fed to him by this imposter.

The clone suddenly stands and walks out, food in hand. Keith was about to figure that he wasn’t going to be fed that day when, doboshes later, the prison door swishes back open to allow the clone back in, something akin to bread in hand but blue in color. 

“Open,” Why does he think it’s going to work this time if it didn’t work last time? Keith doesn’t have much time to wonder before the clone is suddenly tearing off a piece and stuffing it into Keith’s unprepared mouth. He chokes on it. It’s spongey, dry, unappetizing, yet reminds Keith that he is starving. And that foreign fingers are shoving down his throat. Before Keith can spit it out out his mouth, the clone closes in on him, lips covering his own. Keith is shocked into stillness. Cold liquid rushes into his mouth, down his throat. It's refreshing and sickening at the same time. The clone draws back as Keith pitches himself over to violently cough. There was nothing to hack up except his anger. Keith feels tears welling up and chokes them back as he looks up to his torturer.

“You sick fuck.”

“I warned you,” The clone says, waving the bread in front of his face, to taunt him. “Cooperate or I'll do it again.”

 _Try it again and see what I'll do._ Keith clamps his mouth shut as the clone reaches toward him. When he finally wrenches Keith’s mouth open with his clawed hand, Keith bites down as hard as he can on the fingers that try to enter his mouth again. He tastes copper.

The clone merely frowns as he pulls his hand away. It's the first time Keith felt justified in wanting to punch the face of his best friend. 

“You've made it clear that I'm just your pet here. What else do you want from me?”

“Pet? No, Keith. I said that you're mine. And I take care of what's mine,” The clone says, resting the bread on Keith’s mouth, like it's supposed to entice him. Keith shudders at his words. He's insane. He's completely at the mercy of a madman in his friend's body. He can barely dwell on his first “kiss”, which involved his captor forcing-feeding him water mouth-to-mouth. He's always wondered what Shiro's lips would feel like, taste like, but this moment was not only completely inappropriate but felt like a violation to not only Keith, but to the real Shiro. “Take a bite. You're testing my patience, Keith. I want to be gentle with you.”

 _Gentle?! How the hell was any of that gentle?_ The clone must have some ability to read his face like the real Shiro can, since he chuckles at Keith's glare. “I can do much worse. I will do much worse.” Keith know deep down that he shouldn't doubt his words, just one look at the clone's unjoking expression should be enough to prove that he wasn't bluffing. But Keith was mad. Mad at this clone for pretending to know him like Shiro does. Mad at himself for failing his friends, his found family, and Shiro. So he does something he'll look back on and regret for months to come.

Keith grabs the bread from the clone's hand with his teeth and spits it to the other side of the cell. _Do your worst._ The clone smirks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's clone force-feeds Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags  
> Happy late Valentines day

It has been two years since Keith had last seen his team, since Keith had last seen Shiro. The flashes of visions he had during his time on the space whale were obscure to say the least. He had suspected that he would inevitably be able to see his best friend again after his cosmic journey, but he never would have guessed that he would have a battle to the death with an evil mind-controlled Shiro, let alone be locked up and completely at his mercy. Keith had resolved to finding a way to snap Shiro out from the clutches of the Galra or died trying, not for wasting away while Shiro was out doing who knows what for Haggar. At least there was a simple, straightforward intent on Shiro’s face as Keith faced him down in the alien facility, no matter how unfamiliar it looked: killing Keith. Now Keith really had no way of telling what the clone would do when he came into his cell next. 

After Keith had wholeheartedly rejected the clone's attempts to feed him, the clone hadn’t come back to try again. At least two quintants must have passed since the last time he was visited by the clone. Keith’s only way of keeping time was his own circadian rhythm and counting the number of times Galran guards passed by his cell. Keith’s stomach felt like it was caving in on itself. The bread he had flung across his holdings laid rotting on the floor, collecting whatever the space equivalent of mold is. Keith was at the point of hunger that he wished he had just swallowed his pride and ate the goddamn bread. Maybe the clone had decided to give up on keeping him alive and left him to rot too. If that was true, Keith really would have no one to blame except for himself for losing Shiro. He’s no use to anyone if he’s dead from starvation. If he had just been obedient and allowed for the clone to become complacent in his cooperation, Keith might had stood a chance in eventually catching him off-guard. Looking back, he may had just squandered his last chance in being able to get out and save Shiro.

Keith’s wrists were rubbed raw from the handcuffs binding them, his legs numb from the unrelenting cold, hard prison floor. He figured that the point of having his hands cuffed was to keep him from being able to summon his bayard, but there must be a more comfortable way to keep him weaponless than the way he is restrained now. _It’s probably another way for the clone to wear down his mental state._ Keith took note of his discomfort, hunger, and isolation. Just because Keith knew how clone’s tricks were affecting him didn’t mean that they weren’t working. Keith was too worn down to sleep, and even if he could, his stomach liked to constantly remind him that it was burning from the inside out. He almost wanted the clone to come back. He needed the clone to come back if he wanted to survive.

He nearly mistook the footsteps coming near his cell to be a soldier on patrol, but they weren’t a part of the scheduled pattern Keith had kept track of in his head. It’s finally him. 

The clone walked in, clad in Galran armor that denoted him at the rank of general. Is that what he earned from Haggar for bringing Keith in? Rewarded with status just because he broke off a single piece from Voltron? Keith keeps his scoff to himself. He will only weaken his chances of getting out if he acts up again. He nearly loses his resolve when the clone allows for a disturbing smile to twist on his face.

“Have we finally decided to behave today?”

“Sure,” Keith grumbles. For now. He needs food. He can behave, even if the clone seems keen on taunting him at every turn.

“You must be starving, baby,” _Baby?!_ Keith never thought he would hear such an endearment leave Shiro’s lips, especially such aimed at him. Regardless of the circumstances, Shiro was usually one who kept terms of endearment behind closed doors, if he ever used them at all. Even while they were still together, Shiro had only ever referred to Adam as Adam when in front of Keith. He was never one for PDA, even when Keith was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t paying attention to him and Adam while studying in Shiro’s quarters in the Garrison. Shiro had kept greetings and farewells at hugs and chaste kisses. It was possible that back then Shiro even kept Adam at arms-length, not knowing how long he had left until the disease that was taking his arm would take his life too. For the clone to just spring such a term of affection on Keith, especially in his jail cell of all places, made it that much easier for Keith to dissociate him from the real Shiro in his memory. 

Keith bites back the retort that claws at his throat and nods. Acquiescence was his best and only option. The clone takes that as permission to walk closer. He had brought just himself into the cell, no food in hand. Keith could only assume the clone was in here to antagonize him again, to make it as hard as possible for Keith to comply to his demands, especially since Keith had no other option but to obey in order to survive.

“Be a good boy and I’ll reward you.” 

Even with all the recent sexually-coded harassment the clone seems to enjoy instigating with Keith, Keith still wouldn’t have been able to predict what happened next. Time crawls to a standstill as Keith stares in shock; the clone pulled down his suit pants, revealing a hefty bulge in his boxer briefs. He palms at his crotch, taking his time to squeeze and thumb at where the head of his cock is. Keith’s mouth is dry from dehydration and shock; he couldn’t utter a word even if he wanted to. The clone drags his boxers down, putting on a show that his reluctant audience is too stunned to look away from. He reveals his veined cock, which swings down heavily as the clone pulls away the cloth that held it. He grabs his cock with his human hand, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke and stops to rub the head until a drop of precum rolls down.

Keith could only watch in growing horror and burning shame as the clone brought himself off in front of him, in some kind of exhibitionistic pleasure. Keith never thought he would be forced to see his best friend this way, face contorting in pleasure, dick leaking precum onto the floor in front of him. He had only imagined this scenario in the dark of night, alone in his room at the Garrison, in his shack in the middle of the desert, or in his bedroom in the Castle of Lions. Never with a front row seat to the action, and not once in his dreams nor his nightmares was he forced to watch his best friend, brain hacked by an evil witch, masturbate in front of him while he himself was chained up and starving.

Keith garners enough control of his shocked motor functions to turn his head away, but it only summons a growl from the clone.

“Don’t turn away. Watch, Keith.”

“You’re sick,” Keith can’t keep the snarl out of his voice. How dare he do this with Shiro’s body. Does he think that degrading Keith like this will break him? Scare him into subservience?

The clone speeds up his strokes as he grins, taking sadistic joy from Keith’s blatant disgust. The precum slicks the path of his hand’s movements, adding obscene wet slaps to the air already filled with the clone’s heavy breathing and deep moans. Shiro’s moans. This is what Shiro looks like, enraptured in orgasm, cock heavy and thick in his hand, hips rolling up to meet his fist. He stripes the floor with his cum, releasing a long, pleasured moan. He opens his eyes, satisfied and completely unashamed of what he accomplished before Keith. Keith could only give him his most repulsed look in retaliation. The clone disregards Keith’s reaction completely as he comes closer; unfortunately he wasn’t done with Keith just yet. 

“Open your mouth.” The clone commands, inciting Keith with panic.

“No, no! Get away from me, you freak!” Keith tries to scramble away, but he’s held in place by the clone’s galran hand grabbing his knees. The clone brings his other hand slick with release toward Keith’s mouth. 

Keith didn't think that he would ever get to the point of hunger that even cum would look good enough to eat. The smell of sex was musky and dense, and only caused Keith to involuntarily salivate. He was starving. And it was Shiro's cum. 

Clarity comes back to Keith when the clone’s hand was inches away from his face. Keith fruitlessly tries to kick the clone away, but it’s him, starved and exhausted, versus essentially Shiro at full health, brimming with the aftermath of an orgasm. The clone easily wrenches Keith’s mouth open, allowing the bitter, thick wetness to meet his tongue. The drool that had gathered in Keith’s mouth runs down his chin, slicking the clone’s fingers as he pushes them deeper down Keith’s throat. Keith inadvertently swallows around them, tears welling up from the intrusion in his mouth. He swallowed Shiro’s cum. Fuck. His stomach roils. 

“It’s so warm in your mouth, Keith. Fuck, look how well you take my fingers. I can’t wait to feel your throat around my cock,” The clone murmurs approvingly, breath hot and close. Keith chokes, the humiliation he feels becomes blistering. He can’t move his head, he can only take the invasion to his mouth the best he can and passively listen to the clone’s vile comments. His saliva drips to the floor as the clone beams proudly. “So wet, so eager. I’ll feed you well, baby.”

_It’s not Shiro. It’s his voice, but it’s not his words._ Keith weakly chants to himself. He’s unsure if he’s saying it to himself to keep from obscuring the vision he has of his best friend in his mind, or to keep himself from getting aroused. Only on his worst nights, mentally weak from loneliness does Keith allow himself to dredge up his deeply-buried fantasies of Shiro, fucking him, calling him sweet endearments, and yet still wakes up the next morning overrun with guilt. This imposter is just toying with his feelings, violating not only his person but Shiro’s. And he’s succeeding.

The clone pulls out his fingers with a wet pop from Keith’s mouth. Keith shivers from disgust at the sound, or that’s what he tells himself. He’s alarmed when he sees the clone push his saliva-covered fingers into his own mouth, licking up the drool he collected from his prisoner. Revolting. Keith can't hold back a sob.

“Shh, honey. Don't cry, you did so well for me.” The clone says, softly brushing back Keith's hair like he's his lover. Keith doesn't have the strength left to muster out the scream clawing at his throat. He wants to gag, tear his esophagus out. The clone coos at him, praising him for a job well done, for cleaning his fingers in a way that should be done privately, with a real lover. Not with Keith, who Shiro sees as a brother. 

“How dare you,” Keith gasps. If he had anything left in his stomach he’d be retching right now. 

“How dare I what, Keith? You were the one who swallowed so prettily around my fingers. Don’t tell me you never wanted this. I never missed how you looked at me compared to the rest of the team, how you looked at me even at the garrison. So small and eager, I should’ve taken you then and there. You would’ve let me too, wouldn’t you have?”

His words make Keith’s skin crawl with revulsion and mortification. Shiro noticed? No, the clone must be making this all up. “Stop talking like you’re him,” Keith’s voice cracks.

“Like who? I am him. Didn’t I tell you this already, Keith?”

“You’re not Shiro. Fuck you,” Keith snaps. Shiro would never. If Shiro did notice, he would’ve talked to Keith about it, turned him down gently. If he had noticed in their Garrison days, Shiro could’ve put some distance between them, if he felt too uncomfortable by it. Even just let them drift apart slowly. Keith wouldn’t have blamed him. He had resolved long ago to never act on his feelings.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t one of your greatest desires to have me inside of you, heavy on your tongue? Your eyes only ever followed me, Keith. Just like mine only ever followed you.”

“You had Adam,” Keith didn’t mean to say. He couldn’t bring himself to bluff around Shiro, even this facsimile of him.

The clone smiles, like he could see right through Keith. “Adam never saw me like you did. The moment I saw you fly, I knew I had to have you. And look where we are now.”

“Your prisoner. So what, you think you can own me? Tame me?”

“I said that you’re mine, Keith. You used to be so good at listening to me before,” The clone simpers, tapping his finger against Keith’s cheeks, forcing a flinch from him at every touch. “Do I need to do that to get you to listen to me now? Tame you?”

“How about giving me some food so that I don’t die?” Keith spits. He couldn’t be complacent. Not after this imposter forced his cum down Keith’s throat. It was the wrong thing to say, because the clone’s face turns expressionless, like he flipped a switch.

“It looks like you’re in need of discipline as well. Patience, Keith,” Keith wants to bite hard enough to bleed when he hears those familiar words twisted in meaning. The clone stands and walks out. Like last time, the clone returns not long after, holding a bowl of unappetizing-looking gruel. Keith however feels a heavy sense of foreboding brought in with him. 

“You know, Keith, if there is one thing I have to thank that witch for, it’s for this body. Not only did she get rid of my disease, I’ve discovered I have a much shorter refractory period.”

The clone brings the gruel to Keith’s eye-level, but doesn’t bring it any closer toward him. Instead, he yanks down his pants and underwear, this time with no fanfare, allowing his already half-hard cock to bob out. Keith’s blood runs cold. No way, no fucking way.

“What are you doing,” Keith asks, horrified. He pulls against his restraints in vain. “I can’t eat it if you do that!”

“You will.”

“No! Stop! Shiro, please!”

“Now you call me Shiro?” The clone states coldly, giving his dick a languid pump. He directs the head of it to the bowl of food. Like in slow motion, Keith watches as the the clone picks up a glob of it with his dick, then brings it up to Keith’s mouth. “Open up, honey,” He orders cruelly.

Keith tries to turn away and grit his teeth, but the clone effortlessly maneuvers his head back and forces his fingers into his mouth. He just as easily then shoves his cock into Keith’s mouth. Keith can barely taste the gruel as it’s shoved to the back of his throat; he hyper focuses on the invasion of thick velvet on his tongue, the smell of it musky and all Shiro. He swallows reflexively and nearly chokes. Shiro is big, Keith always knew he was big, from accidentally catching view of it in the showers and constant reminders of its size just from seeing the outline of it in his skintight paladin under armour. It was supposed to be a reminder of what he could never have, should never have, but is now being forced upon him.

The clone pulls out and Keith barely has time to blink away tears before he feels fingers holding his chin up again. He sees the thick cock covered in another helping of gruel before it's shoved back into his mouth again. He feels the clone give a few slow thrusts in his mouth before he buries himself deep in Keith’s throat and holds Keith’s head against his crotch, nose nestled in Shiro’s lush, coarse pubic hair. Keith gags and undeliberately lets out muffled moans around the intrusion.

“I knew you'd be good at this. Your throat is so tight and warm Keith. I can't wait to see how your ass will clench around my cock.”

Keith chokes at his words, can barely bring himself to groan in disgust. Drool, gruel, and precum leaks past his lips. The clone gently cradles the back of his head, as opposed to the relentless thrusts he gives to his mouth.

“Clean my cock thoroughly, Keith. Good boy.” Keith can’t do anything to resist but cry. His face is quickly becoming a mess, most of his focus on trying to breathe through his nose and not choke on the massive dick in his esophagus. He has to constantly swallow to keep from choking on the saliva gathering in his mouth, which causes his throat to flex around the clone’s bulbous head. The clone smiles down at him proudly, sending shivers down Keith’s spine. He doesn’t like this. He can’t like this. This imposter of his best friend is just using him like a toy, treating Keith no better than a fleshlight. The clone pulls out of his mouth with a nasty wet pop, his cock disgustingly slick and dripping from Keith’s mouth and precum. Keith coughs, he can already tell that his voice is wrecked just from having Shiro’s cock in his throat for a couple minutes.

If Keith didn’t know any better, he would think the clone was giving him some reprieve by stroking his cock. His cheeks are flaming from hearing the slick sounds of skin rubbing wet, spit-covered skin. Keith feels rather than sees the clone’s dick approaching him again, he can feel the heat of it on his skin. Knowing he can’t overpower him, Keith just opens his mouth again, allowing the thick, musky flesh to invade his senses again.

“That’s it, baby. Make sure you swallow all of this,” Keith’s eyes shoot open in response, but the clone expects it. He tightly threads his fingers through Keith’s hair and presses him close, and Keith can feel the hot gush of cum flooding the back of his throat. He has to swallow or he’ll choke. He can taste the thick bitterness on the back of his tongue and sobs. The clone hushes him tenderly, like he’s not the source of Keith’s terrors. Despite all this, Keith can still barely believe that he actually had a cock in his mouth, before he's even had a proper kiss. Shiro's cock. It may belong to a clone, but Keith now knows the taste and smell of the dick of his best friend and not-so-secret crush. 

Keith hates how weak he is, being so vulnerable in front of this imposter of his friend. But he can't do anything to fight back; he can only obediently swallow the load of cum that has finally reduced to just a dribble down the back of his throat. It's so much. 

The clone pulls out and Keith is almost grateful. “You're doing so good, baby. But I need to make sure that you are fed. We're not stopping until you finish this bowl.” Keith looks up, the horror plain on his face. They're not even halfway done with the food.

“No, please, there's so much left. Just let me eat on my own,” Keith's voice is gravely and cracks on every other word. God, his voice is wrecked, there is no mistaking what he's been doing the past couple minutes were anyone else around to hear it.

“I'm not going to do that to you, babe. You look too tired to even lift a finger,” The clone croons, grinning and knowing exactly what he's doing. Keith would scream if he could. How much more of this is he going to be able to take? 

“Shiro please, please,” Keith needs to gather his thoughts, say what he can before his mouth is stuffed again.

“I'll take good care of you, babe,” The clone cards his fingers gently through Keith's hair before he starts pulling him in for another force-feeding via throat fucking, and Keith can't take it anymore.

“No! Fuck! Shiro, please, stop! I can't anymore!” Keith turns away, causing the clone's cock to rub food and spit all across the side of his cheek and lips. Keith can't bring himself to care, anything to just end this torment. He gears up for the clone's expression to shutter, and the ensuing verbal abuse.

“I hate when you lie to me, Keith.”

“What-”

“You know, Keith, you've been hard this whole time, since I started jacking off in front of you,” Keith was not expecting that. His heart stutters as he looks down, seeing the bulge in his pants. Obviously he's aroused by this, it's Shiro's cock touching him, but Keith would have expected the horror of the situation to had doused his erection. “You like being used by me, being my personal cumslut, don't you?” Keith’s body shakes, feeling like he's being physically assaulted by the vulgarities being spoken in Shiro's voice, toward him. Would Shiro ever actually say these kinds of words behind closed doors?

“Fuck,” Keith breathes as the clone guides his cock back into his mouth. Keith relents. He may be too tired to suck, but he's too tired to keep resisting even more. He lazily laps up the gruel covering the cockhead and the clone hums approvingly.

“Good. Good boy. Eat up and I'll let you rest,” It’s so easy just to give in. Let the clone with the soothing, familiar voice Keith innately relates to security and love guide him, tell him what to do. A part of him know that he should be fighting, that giving in for now was just the precedent. Even if he does gather the energy to resist later down the line, he's given up once already. He's been irrevocably changed by this, it's not something he's going to forget ever, even if things are miraculously saved and Keith gets the real Shiro back. He knows now that this is all it takes for Keith to give in: hunger, sleep deprivation, and a guy who looks like Shiro shoving his dick down his throat. Keith deserves this, being humiliated and torn apart at the seams.

Keith is lapping up the third scoop of gruel that he's eating willingly when he feels another flood of semen down his throat. Fuck, how does one guy have so much fucking cum? Keith’s eyes shutter as he moans around the load, lets it sit on his tongue before he uses it to wash down the food in his mouth. The cum arguably tastes better than the actual food, not to mention that it's warm. The clone’s cock twitches in Keith’s mouth, giving off a few more spurts before it’s pulled out to return with more food. Keith doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but it’s somewhat comforting to have this kind of human contact, even if it’s through cock-sucking. The way that the clone grabs the back of his head can almost be considered loving, from the way he pets him and threads his fingers through his scraggly hair. When did Keith last have a shower, anyway? He must be absolutely vile right now.

The clone crouches down in front of him, and Keith realizes in a daze that he had finished all his food. Things go by so much quicker when he doesn’t have to fight. The clone smiles, like he’s just that good at reading his thoughts, and laps up the cum and drool running down his chin. Propriety is telling Keith that he should be revolted right now. Keith doesn’t even have the energy to close his mouth, jaw incredibly sore from holding Shiro’s girth and tongue tired from constantly working through the entirety of the ordeal. The clone brings his face in close, and suddenly they’re properly kissing. Keith is tired but malleable, and the clone is free to explore every crevice of Keith’s mouth with his tongue. In a way Keith has to admire how the clone is putting up with how disgusting he must be just to kiss him. Or maybe he actually enjoys it, so thoroughly marking up Keith and staking his final claim with a messy tonsil-cleaning. 

Their mouths separate with a nasty _shlick_ noise and the clone gives his nose an almost innocent peck, strong arms enveloping him. “Rest now, baby. You did so well for me.”

Like witchcraft, Keith’s eyes start to shutter. Maybe it is witchcraft, maybe Keith is trapped in the worst nightmare he could possibly imagine, one where the universe is doomed because Keith can’t keep himself from slobbering over his mind-controlled best buddy’s dick. Not an ounce of energy left in him for resistance, Keith starts to doze. He faintly hears clicking noises behind him, and heavy pressure lifting off his abused wrists. This is his chance. This could be his only chance in who knows how long, but Keith just closes his eyes. The comforting smell and warmth of Shiro is nestled around him. Why is he trying to resist? He’s safe. He’s always safe with Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It begins

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first problematic fic  
> I have to get this out of my system


End file.
